More than Secrets
by TheFrozenHeartedPrincess
Summary: What would have happened had one more agent been added to Team Bartowski from the very beginning? This story follows the plot of the TV series "Chuck" with an added OC.
1. Chapter 1

**This first chapter covers the introduction of the OC, Annalise. The next chapter will cover the first episode of Chuck, and it will continue that way. **** Please Review and tell me what you think!**

I never really went to sleep. I closed my eyes and thought about every possible outcome to a mission. At first it was difficult not to fall asleep. My informal training did not provide me with tactics to stay awake. I was sixteen when I had decided that I wanted to be a spy. Seventeen when I had built up the commitment to train myself. It was three days before my eighteenth birthday when I was recruited to Phase, a non-government agency, looking for undercover agents.

It never occurred to me that I would be working for anyone but the government. I had tried. I did extensive research in the time that I was training and attempted to join the military to gain access to a CIA or even an NSA position. The military turned me down.

During my senior year in high school, I had completed all of the paperwork and was due to leave for basic training as soon as possible. I went home, debating whether I would head over to the firing range or the gym when I received the letter. My mom was sitting hunched over on the couch when I walked inside. She handed me the letter with a shaking hand.

It said that I hadn't passed the physical exam. I was not going to go to basic, I was not going to be deployed, and I was never going to make it into the CIA or the NSA. My mom was devastated. She had spent endless hours with me in recruiter's office and enough money to support my training. Of course, she didn't know that my ultimate goal was to become a spy. I would be leaving her if I did become one. I would undoubtedly have to stage my death, leaving my mother alone.

"How could I have failed the exam? I was ahead of everyone! I have trained for this test every day for the past year!" I balled up the letter and threw it in the trash on my way to my room. I had reached into the drawer in my dresser and pulled out my handgun. Firing range, it was.

Maybe if I hadn't gone to the range that day, I wouldn't be laying in Anton Romanoff's bed, pretending to sleep. I could hear the large man's breathing, muffled by the mountain of pillows that surrounded each of us. He didn't live poorly. Being a rouge arms dealer had to pay well. A loud sigh escaped him and I could tell he was waking.

A few seconds later I felt his rough hand on my neck, his thumb grazing my jaw. I laid still, not letting my muscles tense up, even though I desperately wanted to push him away from me. But I didn't have the information I needed. Not yet. His gruff voice, thickly accented broke through my morning reverie, "Good morning, lo-" A sharp, air-splitting _whoosh_ filled through the room. I sat up immediately, not concerned that Romanoff would know I was awake. He was dead. I looked over, watching the blood seep down the side of his face from the neat hole in between his eyes. A sniper.

I untangled myself from the silken comforter and ran to the doorway, where no windows would reveal my location to the sniper. I imagined the sniper was military, or at least military trained. Possible CIA or NSA. I would know if it was a non-government operation. The sniper was either willing to kill a civilian or he would spare me and retreat. Assuming the worst, I pulled my gun out of the ornate dresser, careful to stay away from any windows. I looked at the one window that had a small hole in it, surrounded by a spider web of cracked glass. I shuddered. I wouldn't have time to set up a sniper rifle myself and it was a windy day, so it would take a decent amount of time before I got the opportunity to fire, possibly giving this sniper a chance to kill me as well. I wouldn't even know where to shoot if I did decide to use my rifle. I loaded my pistol and pushed it into my garter, before wrapping a robe around myself and running downstairs. If this sniper was planning to kill me as well, they were probably waiting for me to panic, running out of the house.

I pushed my way through the French doors that led to the back yard. Approximately fifteen minutes had passed since the shot was fired. I had pushed the button on my watch that would alert Jared that there was an emergency. I snuck around the front of the house, staying close to the trees, in order to block the sniper's view as much as possible. I saw a gardener tending to a rose bush watching me. I took deliberately slow strides towards him, not letting him know that I was maneuvering away from the view of the sniper. I was going to have to make this man, who was still staring at me, to go get my car and drive it out here. Of course, the best and most reliable method of influence was sex. When I was close enough to the gardener to push myself into his arms, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He was tense, but this wasn't something a typical civilian dealt with daily. It was only then, with my head nuzzled into this unfamiliar gardener's neck, that I felt his pulse pounding and a sheen of sweat covering his skin, even though it was forty degrees outside as if he'd been running. I could feel the contours of his bullet proof vest beneath his shirt.

"Shit" I murmured as I felt the gun being pushed into my side. The man bared his teeth and pushed me away.

"Guess I don't need to tell you that you're under arrest, do I?" His voice was deep and gruff. I felt chills run down my spine and up my shoulders as the cold seeped from the gun, through my robe, and into my side.

I put my hands in the air, feigning surrender, or possibly civilian confusion, however, I doubted he would buy that, as I had just witnessed my lover being murdered and found myself in the arms of a "gardener" in less than twenty minutes. I took two steps back, watching as his finger itched to pull the trigger. "Listen, I don't know what the hell is going on," I slowly put my hands down, feeling the gun under my hand and the thin robe "but I don't want any trouble." Pushing my leg slightly out, I felt the robe fall back, leaving my hand hovering over the pistol. Before the man, who I assumed was the sniper, could glance down and notice my weapon, I dropped to the ground, using my leg to sweep his feet from beneath him. His back thudded against the thick sod and his hands were laying on the ground above his head, the pistol still being held tightly. "Drop your weapon!" I shouted. He just glared at me, baring his teeth again. "You think I won't shoot? Drop your weapon!" The gun stayed steadily trained on his head.

"How about we try this again?" He proposed, kicking my legs from beneath me and knocking the gun from my grasp the moment I hit the ground beside him. He rolled on top of me, sitting up and putting the gun to my forehead. "You're either one hell of a whore, or you are an agent. Which one?" He didn't waste any time. If he didn't have the barrel of the pistol up against my head, I might have been tempted to point out the fact that he was straddling me, not the other way around.

"Go to hell." I spat. It was too late, Jared was not going to save me this time.

"That's ironic, coming from you." He replied.

* * *

My wrists ached as they hung from the bar under the headrest of a Crown Victoria. They were chained in handcuffs, tighter than was really necessary. I looked at the sniper through the rear view mirror. "So, no music?" He bared his teeth again, letting out an animalistic growl. "Okay then, how about some conversation? Maybe I can convince you that I'm not a criminal."

He glanced back at me, raising his eyebrows. "What's your name?" I was surprised that he had even decided to talk to me.

"It's Annalise Carter." I sighed. Of course, I would give him my alias, and he would find a completely clean record when he ran my background check. How long had it been since I'd even thought about my real name?

"No, it's not. I want your real name. Now." He demanded.

"Alright, but you had better let me explain afterwards." This earned another growl. "My real name is Nicole Demarest." He freed his right hand from the wheel, bringing his watch close to his mouth. "This is John Casey requesting a background check on Nicole Demarest. Update me as soon as possible." His hand returned to the wheel. A few minutes passed and Casey's eyes met mine in the rear view mirror, one eyebrow raised in question. I figured that it was safe to assume he had been briefed via earpiece of my past. "It's not every day I arrest a dead woman. I'm assuming you work for Phase?" Chills ran down my back at the mention of the agency I worked for.

"NSA? Or CIA?" After a few more seconds of silence, I continued. "Well, I would assume NSA as you killed Romanoff without any due process, but then again, you didn't shoot me, which points to CIA."

"Do I look like a CIA operative to you?" His voice dripped with seriousness. "Tell me about your operation."

I sighed, letting my head fall forward dramatically. "You know I can't do that."

He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "Fine, but if there's one thing that your past points to, it's that you will do anything for a position as a government agent, possibly the NSA."

"Is that an offer? Do I have your word?" I wasn't absolutely positive that this was the best plan, but it was worth a shot.

"I have a solo mission tonight, come with me and prove that you have the skills and you can guarantee you'll get your position. You have my word. Of course, the only way I am going to take you on a mission is if you tell me everything you know about Phase." Casey pulled into the parking lot of an old motel. When the car stopped, he got out and walked around the back, to open my door.

He pulled a handcuff key from his pants pocket. I laughed. "Allow me." I bent my head down, letting my cuffed hands find the mess of hair that had, the night before, been artfully knotted into a bun, but was now reduced to a nest of dark, wispy strands. I felt around the bobby pins until my fingers met a small metal rod. I pulled my head back, careful to keep hold of the key. I maneuvered my hands, unlocking the cuffs, and pulled my arms free, leaving the cuffs dangling from the headrest's support.

I stepped out of the car, still only wearing only my underwear and a robe, and walked past a smirking John Casey. "Which is your room?" The identical doors were all painted a sickly green. He walked up to one with a rusted "18" nailed to it. He unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside so that I could walk in first. I mumbled a thank you as I stepped past him.

The room was small, one bed nestled between two walls, each about two feet from the bed. There was an old TV sitting on a dresser that looked like it had seen better days and a bathroom with no door. The wallpaper was peeling and the roof looked suspiciously like it was growing mold. I stood at the doorway while John Casey closed the door and pushed past me. He stepped into the bathroom and unbuttoned his orange gardener shirt, revealing the vest I had felt previously. I flushed at the thought of myself trying to seduce an NSA agent.

I watched as he pulled the vest off, catching only a glimpse of skin before I averted my eyes. I waited until he walked into the room to take a good look at him.

John Casey was tall, almost six foot, and broad. He had brown hair, cut short. He was probably in his mid-forties. Altogether, he looked like a killer. If you saw him on the street, you would guess he was a cop. He was handsome, in a strange way. Not like the men l had been accustomed to staying with. Romanoff was six feet tall easily, with brown eyes rimmed with a thick fringe of lashes, and the same build that male celebrities had. His wild hair fell to his shoulders and framed his face perfectly. A flutter of sadness ran through my chest as I realized that, even though it was only a cover, the man I had been with for months had just been murdered.

"I only wanted to be a spy." I said, ready to tell Casey the truth. "I never wanted to be the bad guy." I paused, waiting for Casey to cut me off, but he stayed silent. "I was turned down from being in the military. Ultimately, I intended to make my way into the CIA or NSA but I was turned down, right before shipping off to basic. I went to a firing range, and met Jared. Jared is a recruiter for Phase. He told me that if I could shoot three bullets in a row into the center of the target, he would offer me the job of a lifetime. I shot the target, and he told me that I would be giving up everything I knew and loved if I took the job. I told him I would and he explained that he needed an operative for a non-government intelligence agency. I accepted, went home, and while my mom was shopping, burnt down the house. After that, everyone assumed I had died in the fire. I disappeared. I have been working for Phase for over five years now. I was in the middle of a mission involving Romanoff. I was in charge of extracting his contact information as far as weapon distributers and buyers. I was also in charge of his assassination once the operation was concluded." I took my watch off, and Casey tensed up, reaching for his gun.

"It's okay." I said, "I'm just giving you my intel." I held the watch out to him. "Everything I gathered, is encrypted in the watch." He stepped forward, gingerly taking the watch from my palm, staying careful to not touch my hand.

"I suppose I am going to have to brief you on our mission." Noticeable disdain dripped from the word "our".

I smiled, "I'm all ears."


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay for indentation! This chapter covers the first episode of the TV series, "Chuck". Someone asked if this is a Chuck/OC fanfiction and, I'm very sorry to disappoint, but it is not. It is a Casey/OC fanfiction. As I am madly in love with John Casey myself I find it the most compelling to write. ****J****Please Review and tell me what you think!**

After making a call to General Beckman, his superior, Major John Casey briefed me on the mission. We were to fly to Los Angeles and pursue a man named Chuck Bartowski, who had, been emailed all of the government's classified intelligence via a rouge CIA spy named Bryce Larkin. John informed me that the men had been roommates when they both attended Stanford, five years ago. Apparently, the NSA was trying to apprehend the man before the CIA could get to him and find out exactly why he had been emailed such top-secret information. He told me that the CIA agent had already made contact with Bartowski and that he had been keeping surveillance before driving to San Francisco to kill Romanoff. He was obviously very proud of the fact that he could manage a mission of such importance and an assassination in such a short amount of time.

"This Bartowski," I had asked on the drive to Los Angeles, "Is he dangerous?" I wanted to know exactly what we were dealing with.

"The background check we ran suggests that he isn't a threat, and he has a solid past. It's not likely that he is using an alias." He glanced over to me. "But that doesn't mean he deserves mercy. Civilians don't receive government secrets. He needs to be neutralized."

I nodded. It wasn't that I was extraordinarily ruthless, but I had grown accustomed to objectifying people in order to kill them. When they are a task, not a human, it's easy to pull the trigger, to forget that you just betrayed someone who had learned to trust you completely. I worked as an agent specializing in the practice of "sexpionage". Basically, I would gain a man's trust, win his heart, and then, after taking all of his secrets, kill him in his bed. It was a routine.

"I want to apologize. For earlier. If you had really been a gardener, I just wanted someone to get my car for me, so that I would stay out of the line of sight of-"

"Me?" Casey asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, exactly." I looked over at him, silently praising his tactics.

"I had a feeling you would try to sneak out. No civilian would ever react calmly to that kind of a situation." It was my turn to be prideful. I looked over at him and smiled. "Sexpionage, right?" he asked. My smile fell.

"Yeah. The recruiter doubled as my trainer. Apparently, they needed someone to… well, you know." My grip tightened on the edge of my seat. I loved what I did, but I hated how I did it. Something Jared said rang through my mind. I knew that my job could be looked at as glorified prostitution and I found myself hoping that Casey understood.

"Have intercourse with the enemy and extract information." He finished for me. Casey had gone and bought me a shirt and pants, leaving me cuffed to the steel bedframe in the hotel, and making sure that my key was nowhere near me. "Just for precaution." He had assured me. He had turned on the TV before leaving. I watched "America's Next Top Model" until he came back with the dark jeans and black long sleeve shirt. I looked in the mirror. I had looked like I did before the fire. Before I became Sydney, Lizbeth, Sophia, Cara, May, Julie Anne, and Annalise.

I had walked into the room to see John Casey sitting on the edge of the bed, a handheld device in his hand. I realized he was probably going over my files firsthand. He looked up from the small screen and appraised me. The corner of his mouth twitched when his eyes found my face. I had smiled gratefully at him. Still, at that moment, sitting in the car beside a man who had just blatantly confirmed my job description, I felt like I was still only wearing the robe.

I wanted Casey to know that I was not a bad person. His mention of my job description made my face heat up. "I never wanted this." I wasn't whining, just making it clear that my intentions were never to be in the position I was in. Casey stayed silent, his jaw clenched. I returned my gaze out the window. My eyelids were weights and, for the first time in too long, I slept deeply.

When I woke up, the sun was setting. The pressure that had been building behind my eyes was gone. I looked over at John Casey, who was as stoic as ever. I smiled. This man, who I had only known since around six that morning, had already grown dear to me. Maybe it was because, other than Jared, John was the only person who I was myself with. My smile fell as I realized what I was doing. It was how I was trained. I was wired to form bonds with complete strangers faster than most. If this was a mission, Casey would have been my target. I would sleep with him, get what I wanted, and, while he was asleep in his bed, lodge a bullet between his eyes.

That was the thing about doing what I did. Every time I shot someone, the part of me that I built around them, for them, died too. When Casey spoke, I made careful not to analyze his every word. If I did that, I would change myself for him and, even though I doubted that he would ever fall for me, I would be proving that all I could do was use charm to make people weak. This man was twice my age and I knew nothing about him. I had no business treating him like we had the potential to be anything more than colleagues. "If we are going to work together, you can't deprive yourself of sleep." Casey informed me.

"When I'm working, I can't sleep at night. I wait till the daytime when my target is out to sleep. Romanoff liked to keep me company during the day, too." Jared had taught me never to trust anyone when they believed you thought that they were asleep. "You have to stay a step ahead of them, in case you have been compromised."

A grunt of what I assumed was agreement came from Casey. We pulled into the parking lot a shopping plaza in order to give us a clear view of the Buy More. A smartly-dressed blond sashayed past us, talking into her watch. John Casey nodded towards her. "That is Sarah Walker. She is Bryce Larkin's ex-partner. She is also the CIA agent who is in charge on finding the Intersect on their end." The Intersect was what they called the software the federal government had used to store all classified information. I pursed my lips, watching her as she climbed into a sports car. "She is going on a date with Bartowski tonight."

* * *

After a day of keeping surveillance outside of Agent Walker's house and following her to the restaurant she and the target were eating, Casey parked his Crown Victoria in a nearby parking garage. "There's a government vehicle outside the restaurant. My baby isn't going anywhere near a chase." He held his keys firmly in his hand, affirming the protectiveness he felt towards his car. We walked out of the garage and down the street, towards the restaurant. It was strange, I thought, to walk with someone and not hold their hand. I was so used to intimacy that the space between Casey and I felt miles wide.

It's not that I never had friends, but since I had started working for Phase, I went directly from one mission to another. After my first mission, I had asked Jared for a break, but he refused, saying that I needed to be in the field immediately. I had killed nine people in the past five years. Six of them were my targets. The others were possible witnesses. I threw a sidelong glance towards John Casey. I wondered how many people he had killed.

We walked up to a large, black SUV. "It doesn't get much more stereotypical than this, does it?" I chuckled, watching as John Casey climbed into the passenger seat. He shut the door and gave me an impatient look through the tinted window. I walked around the front of the vehicle obediently and climbed into the front seat.

"I'm a terrible driver." I informed Casey as I buckled myself in.

He looked over at me and furrowed his brows. "What the hell are you doing, Carter?"

I turned my attention to him, shocked that he had used my name but thankful that he had used my cover name. "What? The seatbelt? What happens if we get pulled over? I don't have any form of ID with me."

Casey grunted. "We are the authorities, you idiot." He said bluntly. I flushed angrily and unbuckled my seatbelt. I noticed Walker and Bartowski walking out of the restaurant and started the engine of the SUV with the keys that were left in the ignition as soon as they were far enough away to not notice the engine turning. Casey looked over at me, clearly surprised that I had taken the initiative to do something without his command. He rolled down his window less than half-way and pointed what looked like a megaphone, towards the target. I flicked my gaze to the device. There was a cord attached to where the mouthpiece should have been leading to a pair of bulky headphones that Casey was now sporting.

I heard yet another grunt come from Casey. "She's playing him like a card. He probably hasn't had any female interaction other than his sister since his mom left him." He laughed at his joke, which I found to be slightly dark. We continued to follow them, sometimes parking in front of shops to keep our distance. I watched the couple as they walked. Sarah would raise her shoulders and look at Chuck and he would catch her gaze and look down, almost as if he was embarrassed. Something seemed so real about the way they acted that I couldn't help but feel sorry for the target. In that moment, they weren't Agent Walker and Bartowski, the man with the Intersect.

Bartowski led Sarah down a set of dimly lit stairs into a Club that was blaring music so loud that Casey turned down his microphone. "I'm going in." he finally decided as he raised his watch, ordering for backup. "Stay where you are. We might need a getaway."

"Alright. Be careful."

* * *

Ten minutes had passed when I saw Casey darting up the stairs. I leaned over and opened his door, pulling away from the parking spot as soon as he was in his seat. "Turn around!" he ordered. I did and we both saw Agent Walker dragging Bartowski, who was still smiling, completely oblivious to the fact that he was in danger, to a Nerd Herd car. "How cute. He parked outside the club so that he could drive her to her car after their date." Casey's noted sarcastically. Bartowski appeared to be arguing with Walker about letting her drive when she unlocked the vehicle herself and got in without Chucks keys. He argued with her for a moment, obviously wildly confused, and finally got in.

Walker maneuvered the car into the road, miraculously avoiding any traffic, and began driving backwards. We were facing them head on, giving us a clear view of Chuck's panicked face. Sarah was turned around in her seat, with one hand on the steering wheel. "Hit them, Carter!" Casey yelled. I pushed the gas pedal as hard as I could and felt a smile creep onto my face as I heard the gears shifting. We were seconds away from hitting them when Sarah turned the vehicle, driving down a set of stairs.

"Follow this road and make two rights. When you see him, hit him!" Casey hollered over the growling engine. Narrowing my eyes, I tightened my fingers around the steering wheel, all thought of my unutilized seatbelt abandoned. I followed his directions until they came into sight, sitting sideways in the road. As soon as I saw my opportunity, I floored it, squeezing my eyes closed as I braced myself for impact. I hit the small white vehicle painted with the words "Nerd Herd" on the driver's side.

By the time I had opened my eyes, both Walker and Bartowski were climbing out of the vehicle. "Reverse. Hit him!" Casey commanded once again, grinning as Bartowski tripped on the dismantled hood of the car, making him an easy target. He looked up at Walker, who had stopped and was looking at Bartowski, obviously wanting to find a way to rescue him. I backed away from the wreckage I was responsible for, shifted into drive, and sped up towards Bartowski. I had never run anyone over before and I felt sick imagining what it might be like. Nevertheless, I had an order.

A split second had passed and instead of feeling a thud as I rolled over the target, I felt a sharp impact. I was thrown against the wheel before the airbag deployed, knocking the wind out of me. Somehow, Walker had found a way to deploy barriers from the ground, protecting Bartowski. Walker helped Bartowski up and they ran. "And that is why I will never take my Crown Victoria on a chase." Casey said as he briefly surveyed the extensive damage that had been done to the SUV. He climbed out. "Come on."

I pushed my door open, cringing at the pain in my chest. I grabbed a pistol from the center console before jumping out of the vehicle. I followed Casey as he followed our target. It took all I had to keep up with him and I wondered if Chuck felt the same way. We made our way to the roof of a building, the wind whipping the hair that had escaped my ponytail into my face. We approached the target. "It's late. I'm tire. Let's cut the crap and give him to me now. He belongs to the NSA." Casey said calmly. I kept my gun down at my side, ready to aim it at Walker if I needed.

"CIA gets him first!" She shouted, training her gun on Bartowski. I took the moment to actually look at her. She was beautiful. I could understand why Chuck Bartowski would be more than a little enthusiastic to go on a date with her. Jealously fluttered in my chest. For the past five years, I had worked almost exclusively with men. Not to mention Walker had my dream job and looked to be about my age. "You come any closer and I'll shoot."

"Sarah, I'm freaked out!" Chuck yelled, his hands in the air.

Casey yawned. He held his gun up to Sarah and I raised mine to her as well. "You shoot him, I shoot you. I leave both of your bodies here and go out for a late snack. I'm thinking maybe pancakes. How's that sound, Carter?" I looked at him in disbelief. Was he serious?

"Are you babysitting now, Casey?" Walker asked. She nodded towards me. My finger found the trigger. Casey opened his mouth to reply when Chuck ran over to the edge of the building, his hands flared awkwardly at his sides. "Chuck! No!" Walker shouted. He turned around.

"They're gonna kill him." Chuck muttered.

"Kill who?" Walker asked, dropping her gun and walking towards Chuck. The tone in her voice was that of a concerned mother.

"Stanfield, the general. The NATO guy, Stanfield. Look, something is wrong with me, okay? I don't know what it is but something is very, very wrong with me, and I'm remembering things I shouldn't know." Chuck said, panic prevalent in his words. I had decided at this point that Chuck Bartowski was definitely not a spy, or, for that matter, anything other than an electronics salesman for a Buy More.

Sarah swallowed and nodded, trying to calm Chuck down. "Okay, Chuck. Talk to me."

Chuck, who was also about my age, was tall with dark curly hair. "I don't know." He stumbled for words. "For example, uh, there was- there was a Serbian demolitions expert at the Large Mart today! That's kind of odd, wouldn't you say? Look, last week the NSA, you guys," Chuck looked at Casey, "intersected some blueprints of a hotel. That hotel!" Chuck motioned towards the brightly lit building straight across from us. "And then the CIA, you guys found a file." His jaw dropped as he put the pieces together. "The bomb is in that hotel!"

Casey's gun was now aimed at Chuck. "He was working with Bryce." He said, ready to pull the trigger on this man who was in cohorts with a now dead rouge spy.

"No!" Sarah cried. Casey's finger left the trigger. "He opened Bryce's E-mail!" She turned her attention back to chuck. "Chuck, those pictures that you saw were encoded with secrets, government secrets. If you saw them, then you know them."

"There were thousands of them." Chuck gasped in awe.

Casey shook his head. "Wait a minute. You're telling me all of our secrets are in," his laser sight shifted to the area directly between Chuck's eyes. "Are in his head?"

"Chuck is the computer." Sarah confirmed.

Chuck's jaw dropped even further. "What did you say? Wh-What did you say? What does that mean?" He was shocked and desperate as he asked these questions.

"You have to tell us where-" Sarah started.

Chuck interrupted. "What's happening to me?"

"You said there was a bomb." Walker tried again. "Is there time to stop it?"

"Wh-What? Are you crazy?"

"No, we're the good guys. We get paid to stop bombs from exploding." Casey was obviously not ready to wait for Chuck to get over the shock of being a super computer. I smiled inwardly, realizing that now I was a good guy.

"Look, I can't help you, okay? I really wish that I could, but I can't. Call Bryce. He's the guy that can save the day." Chuck's words were rushed.

A pained look crossed Sarah's face at the mention of her partner. "Bryce is dead! He died sending those secrets to you."

"Bryce is dead?" Chuck repeated, his disbelief clear.

Casey fired a shot into the air. "Yeah, and he's going to have a lot of company unless you start talking. So, pretty please, can we defuse the bomb now?" I took this as Casey's attempt to communicate with Chuck, who was being difficult at the moment.

Chuck stood still for a moment. "According to the schedule, the general is already on the stage."

* * *

After Chuck had made it clear that he was not going to wait in the lobby, regardless of how valuable he was, Sarah had ordered Chuck to lead us on the fastest route the conference. By the time we reached the conference, my jeans were soaked and I was breathless. We walked into the room and Chuck indicated that the bomb was in a silver serving tray. We pushed our way past the tables of dignitaries and ambassadors. Casey lifted the trey, revealing a laptop with a timer on it. There was one minute and thirty seconds until the bomb exploded, killing everyone in the room, including us.

Sarah moved aside a curtain covering the cart that the trey was sitting on, revealing more TNT than I was sure was necessary. John Casey and Sarah argued about how to diffuse the bomb, each turning down the other's idea with a very viable explanation as to why it wouldn't work. I looked over at Chuck. "You need to do something. You're the computer guy." He looked at the computer, his hands out as if he were about to type on an imaginary keyboard.

"Irene Demova." He whispered.

"What?" I asked. Glancing at the clock, I saw that we had thirty seconds before detonation. I put my hands out. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Do what you have to." I grabbed Casey's shoulder, pulling him away from the laptop and clearing Chuck's way. He glared up at me.

The attendees had begun to panic. People were running past us, away from the bomb and out of the hotel. Chuck opened a search engine and typed the name Irene Demova. Casey growled and looked at me. "He's searching porn." My eyes widened and my eyebrows raised when it registered to me that Casey recognized this name as a porn star. I made an internal note to ask him about that later.

Sarah shushed him as Chuck opened a link. Moans emanated from the speaker of the laptop and Chuck closed his eyes, balling his fists and cringing. Moments later, with less than a second left on the timer, smoke came from either side of the computer.

"You did it!" Sarah exclaimed, smiling at Chuck.

"I did it." He said slowly. "I did it. I diffused a real bomb." Chuck's face was red and beads of sweat were rolling down his face. He started laughing. His laughter stopped abruptly. "Wha- What if I was wrong?" He asked, realizing the implications of one mistake.

"Don't puke on the C-4." Casey warned, not giving any mercy to the man whose blood had just left his face.

* * *

After arguing for containment of the Intersect, Chuck had made it clear that he understood the power he now had. He told Walker, Casey, and I that he was going to go home to his sister and sleep.

Casey had obtained an apartment across from Chuck's sister's and had told me that I was to stay with him, now that I was privy to top secret government intelligence. I took a shower and went into my room. Casey had decided that I could have the room furthest from Chuck's apartment, as he was going to be covering surveillance on Chuck most of the time. I climbed into the bed and marveled at how fast the NSA worked. The whole apartment was furnished only two hours after our episode with Chuck.

I was finally where I was supposed to be. I thought of my partner, and smiled. "Thank you, John Casey." I whispered, before drifting off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am so sorry that I haven't posted a chapter in so long. Summer is a very busy time in my family and any free time I have to write I end up passing out. Also, this isn't the entire second episode. I didn't wait until I finished it because I feel like it will be too long for one chapter and I really wanted to post something. I want to thank the authors of the four reviews I have received: Nomadic Nerd, Harmony Goldstar, Acrossdimensions, and BCC1. I am so excited to write more of this. I really want to rush into the Casey/OC goodness but I think I should wait until after Carina. Anyways, thanks for reading! Please review! It makes it so much easier to write the next chapter.**

I sat on the counter with my bowl of cereal in my lap. I was still replaying yesterday's events in my head when John emerged from his room. While I was still wearing pajamas, John Casey was completely dressed in Buy More uniform. I was pretty certain his khaki pants were freshly pressed and I wondered if that was the NSA's doing or if he had pressed them himself. He also looked entirely alert. I noticed a steaming mug of what I believed to be coffee in his hand. He hadn't left his room any time recently. Did he have a coffee maker in his room? I wiped my eyes, wishing I was still asleep.

The corner of Casey's mouth turned down at the corner. "Tired, Carter?" There was a note of irritation in his words.

"No sir." I replied, straightening my back to show him that I was fine.

"Stay home today. It would be bad for our cover if we were both simultaneously hired, anyways." Did John Casey just cut me some slack? If Casey wasn't standing there, still a step outside of his room, appraising my reaction, I may have dropped my jaw in shock.

"Uh, okay." My response wasn't quite as eloquent as I had intended, but it would suffice. "What do you mean 'hired'? Not that I mind." I added quickly, not wanting to sound ungrateful. "I understand that I need a cover job, but I don't need to go to an interview or anything? And where will I be working."

Casey looked down at his watch. Obviously keeping track of time so that he wasn't late to his new job. "The NSA pulled some strings." He said, looking up from his watch. "We are both going to be Buy More employees. I understand that you have extensive knowledge in technology?" Casey's eyebrows raised in question.

"In high school! That was years ago. I haven't even had a phone since then!" I tried to prove my point.

"You were given multiple awards for being technologically advanced in high school, correct?" Casey asked, sounding as if he was chastising me.

"I guess, but that doesn't mean anything anymore. I'm not even the same person." I flushed at the personal tone my protest had acquired.

"That is called an aptitude. You will relearn what you've forgotten and learn everything that you were never taught quickly. You are apt for a position as a Nerd Herder." He emphasized the "apt". His hands rarely moved when he talked. Casey flashed me a quick smile before walking to the door to leave. While I knew the smile wasn't genuine, more of a salesman's smile after he knows he sold a product, it was strange to see John Casey make any face that wasn't a scowl.

When I heard the door close, I hopped off of the counter and washed my bowl before heading back to my room. After shutting the door behind me, I looked around the room to check for any visible cameras. I didn't find any and I figured that John Casey wouldn't worry about bugging our apartment. I opened each of the dresser drawers, starting from the top and cringing when I reached the underwear drawer. I found a uniform stack of black, lacy underwear and a pile of black bras with lace details. I looked at the tags, noting that they were all my size. I was impressed, but more than a little worried. The NSA didn't think that my old job was going to apply to this new life, did they?

After getting dressed, I looked in the mirror. I had chosen to wear a pink sweater and jeans. It was one of the only casual outfits the NSA had provided. Other than that, I had a collection of black dresses ranging from casual to formal and two gowns, one cream that looked like it was made entirely of lace and one red that was adorned with a large bow on the back. I groaned at my nest of hair. I went into the bathroom that was attached to my room, smiling when I noticed a flat iron and a curling iron sitting on the counter. I pulled open a drawer and found a selection of brushes. I made a note of the collection of poisons that were pushed behind the shampoos and conditioners, courtesy of the NSA. I grabbed a brush and ran it through my hair, only succeeding in making it a frizzy yet albeit not tangled mess. I grabbed the straight iron and attempted to straighten my hair as well as I could. When I finally got it manageable, it still had some wave to it, but it had no frizz.

I walked out to the room, grabbed the makeup bag I had seen on the dresser, and walked back into the bathroom. I swiped some eyeliner onto my upper lid and put some lip balm on. I walked out to the full body mirror in my room and smiled at my now semi-presentable reflection. I was five feet and nine inches tall. As far as my build was concerned, I was not very well endowed. I wore a B cup and if I didn't have such a small waist, I was certain I would look like a ten year old boy. My eyes were a mint green, framed with thick, dark lashes, something that I had used avidly in my career. Jared always told me that men loved green eyes. I had high cheek bones that complimented my square-shaped jaw. My hair was a stark contrast to my eyes. It was dark brown and it fell halfway down my back.

I decided to let some light in and open the blinds. When I did, I saw Chuck running out of his house. Sprinting from my room I grabbed a pistol before running out the door. I checked for traps, suddenly conscious of everything happening around me. Holding the gun towards the door, I apprehended Chuck as he tried to leave the small court yard. Once he stopped running I turned around and held my gun out, ready for his attackers to emerge.

"Whoah. Whoah! It's okay. Everything's okay. I'm just late." Chuck dropped his bag.

I lowered my weapon and shot Chuck an apologetic look. "I am so sorry. I'm just new at this and I've never been in such a civilian setting. I guess I just assumed the worst. Sorry." I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Hey, you're okay. Thanks actually. If there had been an assassin, you would have just saved me." He smiled, trying to be convincing of his gratitude.

"That's very comforting." I frowned, realizing that I sounded a bit sarcastic.

Chuck made an uncomfortable face. "Uh, yeah." He said, picking up his bag. "Good luck with Casey. He's training you, right?" He asked. "He seems… welcoming."

I nodded, not wanting to open my mouth and make a fool out of myself again. He stood there for a few seconds, sucking in air almost like he was going to say something before pointing at the gate and walking away. I shook my head as I walked back to the house. How could I be so ridiculous? I already embarrassed myself on my first official day of service.

When I got inside, I locked the door and put the gun on my nightstand. After a while of laying on the couch, I decided that I may as well learn the layout of the house. I walked through every room, noting hidden weapons and not-so-hidden weapons everywhere. By the time I had walked through the kitchen a second time, looking through the cabinets and drawers, I wondered what John Casey's room was like. I walked up to the wooden door and put my hand on the door knob. I tested to see if it was locked and when I felt no resistance, I lifted my hand from the handle. It wasn't that I didn't want to see what John Casey's room was like, but I was worried that he would know I had invaded his privacy. I turned around and walked back into my room.

I laid on my bed, nestling myself under the comforter and wanting something to do. Sighing I wished that Casey would have asked for a television or at least a computer for my sake. I would have been happy to have been working at the Buy More at the moment. At least it would have given me something to do. I closed my eyes and thought about Jared. Why couldn't I stop feeling like I had betrayed him? What was wrong with me?

It was then, laying in my bed and wallowing in my self-pity that I heard the front door open. My heart raced as I grabbed the gun I had set down on the nightstand after my Chuck incident. I pulled it tight to my chest and laid down on the bed, resting my finger on the trigger. "Carter, we have a mission. I need to brief you." I exhaled in relief at the sound of Casey's voice, putting the gun back on the nightstand and freeing myself from the heavy comforter once more.

I walked out to the living room area where Casey was already at work polishing an assault rifle on the couch. He looked up at me his brows furrowed. "Take a seat, Carter." He motioned to a recliner positioned across from him.

"Yes, sir." I answered, sitting down in the stiff, obviously new seat.

"Call me Major Casey." Casey commanded, looking at me sternly.

"Yes, Major Casey." I sat stiffly, hands placed in my lap. I was nervous about my first official briefing. This was different from my Mission Bartowski briefing. Reality hadn't sunk in at that point.

Casey scoffed. "Listen Carter, if we're going to work together, you can't be so intimidated by the idea of being a spy. I mean a real spy. This is what you do now. Get used to it."

"Wow." I replied. "Chuck was right. You're extremely welcoming, aren't you?" Venom dripped from my words. Casey wasn't going to insult me. I had no vendetta against him, so why should he have one against me? Suddenly, I realized how ridiculous I must have sounded arguing with one of the NSA's top agents.

"You spoke to the asset? Without me?" Casey's eyes grew wide and he sat the gun down on the couch beside him, resting his hands on his knees. "You don't do anything without my order, understood?"

"Yes, Major Casey. I did. But I thought he was in danger." I found myself rambling, trying to make my reasons sound legitimate, or at least viable.

Casey bared his teeth at me. "Tell me exactly what happened, Carter. I need to know you didn't compromise our cover." He talked to me like I was a child.

"I didn't blow the cover." Defensiveness leaked into my words. "Chuck and I just talked."

His teeth still bared, Casey grunted. "Don't do it again." He stood up and picked up a remote. I watched as he pressed a series of buttons. The wall above the fireplace slid open, revealing a flat screen TV. The general stared at us from the display.

"Hello, Major Casey." She gave Casey a close-lipped smile and glanced at me. "Carter." She said in greeting. "Agent Walker is being briefed separately at my request. It is my belief that Agent Walker is a threat to this mission. She is willing to do anything that the CIA asks her to. That being said, I want you to be cautious. Watch her. Your assignment tonight is crucial to the mission. If it is successful, it is likely that this will be the end of Mission Bartowski and you can ship off, Major. Carter will then be put through training and earn her place in the NSA as a certified field agent." I snuck a glance at Casey, who was staring at the screen with his hands behind his back. There was a smug, almost proud smile on his face and I wondered how much he despised this mission already. "Tonight, we are having Dr. Zamow, our best scientist, come to evaluate Chuck. He believes there is a way to extract the Intersect from Bartowski's brain."

The general was an older woman with red hair tied in a bun. She had a stern face and wore red lipstick. Her uniform was covered with metals. I wondered if she was ever used to seduce the enemy. "Will this hurt Chuck, General?" I asked, forgetting that it was very unprofessional to call the asset by his first name, and even more unprofessional to speak out of turn.

She turned to face me. "I'm not sure. That is Dr. Zamow's area of expertise. But I want to be clear. The NSA is willing to do anything to get the Intersect back and in safe hands." I nodded, not looking directly at her eyes. She continued to explain that the doctor was going to meet Walker, Casey, Bartowski and I at the Buy More where he would evaluate the asset, who was to remain anonymous. We were in charge of overseeing the doctor's work and making sure that Chuck's identity was safe.

* * *

Casey and I got to the Buy More before anyone else. He stood at the main service counter, obviously ready to get the mission over. I sat down in one of the swivel desks behind the counters. "So, as far as missions go, how was last night?" I asked, wanting to make the wait more bearable with some conversation. Casey didn't respond. "Irene Demova, huh?" Casey looked at me. "Did you have to learn the names of Serbian porn stars in spy school or is that just something you do in your free time?" I glanced up at him, watching as his eyes widened in what I assumed was anger. I grinned, playfully slapping him on the thigh. "It's okay. Your secret is safe with me." I assured him.

Casey stared at the spot I touched him, his eyes still wide and him teeth now showing. I found that he made that expression quite a lot. At that moment, the door opened and Chuck and Sarah walked in. Sarah nodded at us and Chuck waved.

We set the home theatre room up for Chuck and, when the doctor arrived, watched as he conducted his tests. He was triggering what we were referring to as "flashes", or, the access of information from the Intersect after being retrieved by certain images. I watched the doctor intently. He had such a genuine interest in everything he was doing, it soon became clear that his passion for science is what drove him to excel in his chosen career. Eventually, Chuck's rant of top-secret government information became incoherent as I watched the doctor.

When Chuck stopped speaking, I watched the doctors smile stretch even further. "I think that the information I have gathered here proves that I will be able to extract the Intersect." Sarah's lips pursed before her expression returned to being one of indifference. Casey was smiling almost as much as the doctor. I felt so lost, not sure whether to be celebratory or disappointed. I knew that it was good for both the CIA and the NSA to get the Intersect, but what did that mean for me?


	4. Chapter 4

**I know that I keep saying I am going to finish this episode, but holy moly, there is so much exposition that has to be done this early in the story and I would like to post regularly, so I figured I would break it up. At first I was going to follow the script word for word, but I decided that with another character, things would be altered, plus it makes the writing a lot less tedious. What do you think about Casey and Annalise's cover? It's definitely not the way I was going to go, but I think it is the best cover (Casey is forty-one). I'm definitely going to make Annalise, Chuck, and Morgan become friends because I think she's kind of got that upbeat, fun personality once you get to know her. Maybe Casey will get a little bit jealous of their friendship? Morgan is not in this section so far simply because I wanted to introduce him separately from Jeff and Lester. Ugh. Next chapter is going to start with a fight scene which are my least favorite to write because I'm a perfectionist and if it doesn't play out right in my head it will be erased and restarted. And I know this is a really long author's note but I have to give a shout out to Nomadic Nerd for reviewing again. You really don't understand how much that means to me. It makes my day a thousand times better. Thank you and enjoy!**

"You expect me to wear that?" I said, crossing my arms and raising my brows at the ridiculous request. Casey awkwardly held my uniform up for me. It already had an ID that read Nerd Herd with my picture on it clipped to the front pocket of the white shirt. "How did you even get a picture of me?" I squinted at the picture, trying to remember the last time I wore my hair in the polished loose curls that the picture displayed. "Did you take my yearbook picture from high school?" I gasped.

"This is dress code for the Nerd Herd." Casey replied, ignoring my questions about the picture.

"That is hardly a uniform at all. It's a black miniskirt and a white button up shirt! I thought we were fixing computers, not starring in prepubescent boys' fantasies." I held my hands out at my sides, hoping that Casey would agree to let me wear slacks.

"Good point." Casey looked amused. "Maybe you should take that up with the manager. But until then, this is your uniform." John Casey handed me the hanger with the shirt and the folded skirt. I watched his expression carefully, trying to detect some hint of emotion. It was so hard to understand what Casey was thinking. Most men were open books to me. I could tell you their biggest fears and weaknesses after a five-minute conversation, but Casey was different. Either he was extremely accomplished at hiding his feelings, or he had none.

"Fine." I relented, reaching out to take the skimpy outfit from him. "But I'm keeping the top buttoned all the way." Casey smiled and grunted in what I took as approval. This caused me to grin. Even though I couldn't understand what he was feeling, I kind of liked the guessing game John Casey had become.

He cleared his throat. "We start work at ten. Get dressed and we'll head out." Casey must have noticed that I had already done my hair and makeup for the day. I was sure he would have given me extra time had I not been presentable.

When Casey left, I shrugged off my flannel pajamas and put on my black and white ensemble, complete with black stilettos that made me miss my flats terribly. As promised, I buttoned the shirt up to the collar, which might have made me look light a prude, had I not been wearing a high-waisted black miniskirt. I looked in the mirror and rolled my eyes.

With my heels clicking down the hall, I walked to the living room to find Casey. As soon as I saw him, I felt extremely uncomfortable. He surveyed the uniform and tilted his head back slightly. "How do I look? Are you sure that this is right?"

"You look nice." He said awkwardly. John Casey walked up to me with a simple grey tie in his hands. "Let me just," I shivered at his intimacy as he put his hands behind my head and tied the tie.

I could feel my face heating up as he backed away from me, examining the tie that was now neatly secured around my neck. "Thanks. So, should we head out?"

Casey looked at me and gave one nod. "Yes. We need to talk about our cover on the way to the Buy More." I frowned. What did he mean? Weren't we going to be acting like normal Buy More employees?

"Okay." I said, drawing out the word with skepticism.

We walked to the car in silence. The whole time I was analyzing the tie situation. Casey had never done so much as accidently bump into me, let alone touch me. I could still feel his fingertips brushing my neck. I didn't think Casey was trying to be romantic or suggestive in the least. He was almost twice my age and certainly didn't have any interest in me. In fact, I was lucky if he even saw the potential in us to become friends.

When we pulled out of the parking spot, Casey cleared his throat. "General Beckman thinks we should be married."

The air left my lungs. "What?" I sputtered. Casey didn't seem to be nearly as panicked as me. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "For our cover? I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm sure you make a lovely husband. And I'm really not trying to offend you here, it's just that you—"

"If it's my age you're concerned with, I don't think that will be a problem, Carter. Weren't you married to a thirty-two year old smuggler?" Casey glanced at the rear-view mirror and I realized he was looking at his reflection and smiling.

I pictured my very first target. The least successful of all the men I had been assigned to while working for Phase. His name was Armand. Restraining laughter, I pressed my lips shut. I didn't think it was wise to mention that Casey was clearly older than thirty-two and I looked younger than my twenty-three years. "Uh, Casey, don't you think it would be better if maybe I posed as your daughter?"

"Carter, you and I are going to rarely be apart during this operation. Hopefully, it will be short and you won't have to act like my wife, but Beckman has given me orders and I intend on following them." He pulled two rings out of my pocket and handed them to me. "Put these on." I noticed that Casey was wearing one as well.

I supposed it made sense. From a civilian's perspective, it would be strange for a father and his adult daughter to work together and live together. The rings were traditional silver bands, one with a large diamond. They felt heavy on my hand. The rings were the worst part of working for Phase.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The tie this morning. The compliment. It was all a part of this cover. He was testing it. I decided that I wasn't going to let this bother me. "Oh darling, they're beautiful!" My false southern accent rang through the Crown Victoria as I held out my hand with the ring on it like I imagined most normal women did after getting engaged.

Casey grunted in reply. "Thank the NSA."

* * *

The Buy More was basically everything that a stereotypical electronics conglomerate should be. As soon as you walk through the sliding glass doors, you saw screens of various sizes playing wildlife scenes from every angle of the spacious store. Displays held recently released DVD's and aisles were lined with cameras in every model. At the end of the walkway from the door was the circular desk Casey and I had sat at the night before.

"Hey, Johnny Boy. I don't think you're certified to train this one. I'll take her." A small Indian man joined in step with us, pushing his way between Casey and me. He had an oddly feminine haircut and large eyes. He looked at me with one eyebrow cocked. It was clear that he thought very highly of himself as he looked me up and down. I jumped as another man, this one a large Caucasian man with a balding head of unkempt hair and a gaze that made me think he wasn't all there, stepped up beside me. He reeked of alcohol. I silently wished that I had a uniform that covered more. "Hey, sweet thing. I'm Lester." The beady-eyed pseudo female put his hand on my shoulder and looked up at me.

"Uh, hey." I was too shocked to say much more.

"And I'm Lester." said the larger, possibly intoxicated one. "No, I'm Jeff!" he corrected, shaking his head and putting a hand to his forehead.

Casey pushed Lester away and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Jeff backed off, obviously intimidated by John Casey. "Meet my wife, Annalise. She's going to be working here." My heart was pounding. It was show time.

I reached my hand up to touch Casey's and smiled at him. "It's nice to meet you guys. John has told me so much about you." I sugar-coated my voice and was careful not to say Casey, as I had become accustomed to.

Jeff rubbed his eyes and took a second look at us. Lester threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, "Everybody in the store is getting laid by babes! Chuck and now the guy who has only been here for one day!" He redirected his attention from the heavens to me. "Do you not see what you are missing?" He motioned to himself. I could feel Casey's grip tightening on me.

"Seriously guys?" Chuck walked up from behind us and the disturbing pair left. "Sorry," Chuck said, moving to stand in front of us. "They come on a little too strong. Good morning, Casey. And Annalise, right? It's good to see you without a gun." Chuck grinned and clapped his hands in front of him.

I groaned as Casey shot daggers at me with his eyes. "A gun, Annalise?" John must have begun using my first name for the cover like I had for his. "You said you just talked."

"I never even took the safety off." I pointed out.

Chuck stopped our argument before it started. "While this is shaping out to be an enthralling discussion, I need to train Annalise and Casey, you need to go do whatever you do. Big Mike already feels uneasy about hiring a couple so be careful." Casey must have warned Chuck about our cover.

With Casey gone, Chuck taught me everything I needed to know about the newest models of laptops, computers, cellphones, televisions, and cameras. Casey was right in thinking that my past experience with tech would aid me now. I caught on quickly. It looked like this was going to be a fairly simple job. The only difficult part would be avoiding Jeff and Lester.

I noticed that Casey had left for about an hour after I started work and when he returned, he seemed flustered. After about an hour and a half of training, Casey pulled Chuck aside and was talking to him while I examined a Dell laptop with a broken USB port. Chuck then left the store briefly, before returning and whispering in frustration to Casey. I considered going over to find out what was going on, but I didn't want to be a nuisance. I wasn't even a trainee yet and I didn't want to involve myself where I was not wanted.

Casey found me five minutes before our lunch. He walked up to me and wrapped me in an uncomfortably tight hug. "Zarnow is dead. Walker and I investigated the crime scene while you trained. Beckman and I agree that Walker must have killed him. We're going to be having corn dogs for lunch." I assumed that the whispered lunch suggestion to go eat at the Wienerlicious, a hot dog restaurant across from the Buy More and Walker's cover job, was more like an assault. Standing on my toes, I gave Casey a kiss on the cheek. He grunted but there wasn't really much he could do to stop me and I was having too much fun with this. "Sounds like a plan, honey."

Five minutes later, Casey and I walked across the parking lot towards the smell of burnt wieners. "Shouldn't we have grabbed guns or something?" I asked.

Casey cracked his knuckles. "We're not going to need them."


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: This chapter is very subpar.**

**I am so sorry! I hate summers because they are so busy. I know this is a short chapter and I haven't gotten very far, but I really feel like I need to post something. You guys are the best and your reviews make my day every time I read them. Thank you for your support. Also, any ideas what I should do about Gertrude Verbanski? I know that's a long ways away but I would like to have it planned**.

"There's no way she can go on your mission tonight. She hasn't even woken up." A female voice informed. Who was she talking to? Who was she? An aching ran from the base of my skull to my closed eyes.

"Casey?" I called. My voice wasn't hoarse, so I hadn't been out for very long. I rubbed my eyes before opening them and seeing Casey walk towards me. I smiled at the sight of him. Gauze was wrapped around his hand where Walker had stabbed him.

Behind Casey stood a tall blonde with her hair intricately knotted on top of her head. She was beautiful, with a bone structure that made her look exotic and eyes that made her look kind. They were the color of honey and when she looked up at me from the clipboard, I felt a flutter of jealousy in my chest for this older, yet gorgeous woman. "Annalise, sweety, you have suffered a concussion." She spoke with a singsong voice. Apparently she was the doctor.

"Don't call me sweety. I'm an adult. And I think Major Casey and I had already determined that." Casey nodded at me.

Looking from me to Casey her smile faded, leaving an expression of obvious distaste. "Are you sure we don't need to sedate her, John."

John grunted. "She's fine. We have a mission and I need her. You are dismissed, Nicky." Casey's eyes never left mine.

Nicky pouted as she sauntered towards Casey, who had now broken eye contact to look at her. "I am going to be in town for a couple of days," her hand ran up his chest and to his neck. Her face was inches from Casey's when he continued. "If you want to stop by so that we can catch up." The emphasis on "stop by" made me uncomfortable. Casey tensed up and cleared his throat. He didn't answer, but just nodded. I rose an eyebrow.

When Nicky left the room, I pursed my lips at Casey adopting a mischievous smile. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You guys seem pretty close." My head hurt but I knew it was best to push through it now. I had a mission tonight. Casey pressed his lips together. "So are you going to? Go 'catch up' with her, I mean." This wasn't really any of my business, but this was the first time in years I could act like a real person and I was going to milk it.

"Focus on the mission, Carter."

I pouted before asking, "Alright, what is the mission?"

"Glad you asked." There was a hint of amusement in Casey's tone. "The target was supposed to be moved into protection earlier today, but he-" Casey paused, his hands suddenly tightening into fists, "He got away." I suddenly understood that Casey's anger came from Chuck's ability to evade him. It must not look professional for a prestigious government agent to allow an asset to escape his care. "He's worried about his sister." He spit the word 'sister'. "Bartowski finally realized that Walker is dangerous and before I could get him to a protection facility, he drove off. He and Walker are having dinner with his sister tonight. We are going to be there. We can't allow Walker to endanger the asset."

I nodded. Intuition told me that there was more to this than Chuck driving off, especially with Casey's sunburnt face. Had he driven Casey's vehicle, leaving Casey stranded? I considered asking but quickly decided it was a bad idea. "Were we invited?" I furrowed my brown in question.

Casey grunted. "Sure. If that makes you more comfortable."

Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I glared at Casey. "What's the plan, then? We're just going to barge in?"

Casey tilted his head, considering what I had just asked. "Good idea, Carter. I should leave the mission planning up to you from now on."

I groaned and dramatically pushed my face into the pillow. "You're unbearable." I grabbed another pillow and threw it at Casey.

He caught it and suppressed a smile. "Would you rather I leave you here and go on our mission alone? Be ready at seven." I cringed as Casey threw the pillow on the bed, far enough away not to hit me. He left the room and I found a smile on my face, despite the fact that I was about to be thrown into a mission post-concussion. When I joined Phase, I thought I was never going to be this genuinely happy again. I could throw pillows at someone and tell them they were unbearable and laugh whenever I wanted to and not worry about the target deciding that I wasn't the sultry woman they wanted to love.

I glanced up at the clock that hung high on the wall opposite my bed. It was five thirty. I pushed myself up off of the bed and went to the closet. One of the more casual black dresses caught my eye. I put it on and checked the mirror. The dress was short and tight-fitting, but it had long sleeves. Instead of wearing heels, I found a pair of gold flats and put them on. I put my hair in a tight ponytail and " did my makeup.

It was six and, judging by the smell that permeated the house, Casey was making something to bring to dinner. My stomach growled. I walked into the kitchen to find Casey pulling a cookie pan full of mini-quiches out of the oven. He looked up at me as he sat the pan onto the stove before turning around and getting a plate from the cabinet. He took three of the mini-quiches from the pan and put them on the plate. "These ones don't have trackers. I figured you'd be hungry and I have a feeling dinner is going to be interrupted tonight."

Smiling at Casey's thoughtfulness and still a little shocked at Casey's culinary skill, I accepted the plate. "Thank you."

Casey bared his teeth. "Don't go getting emotional on me, Carter." I rolled my eyes at him and popped one of the quiches in my mouth. It was delicious. "I'm going to go get ready." His footsteps echoed as he marched down the hall.

I wasn't even finished chewing the third quiche when Casey walked out of the hallway. I nearly choked on it when I realized that Casey didn't even change out of his Buy More uniform. The only noticeable difference was the smell of aftershave wafting away from him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wedding band before putting it on. For some reason, the sight of him putting on that ring made me flush. I had almost forgotten about our cover.

"We have a little less than an hour. That's probably enough time to change." A shrug from Casey was enough to tell me that my suggestion was in vain. "Okay. So should I go change into my uniform? Isn't it a bit weird for me to dress up and you to stay dressed for work?"

He squinted at me, like he was trying to figure out what I was making such a fuss over. Raising his arms into a shrug, he waved off my concern. "You'll just look like a trophy wife." I wondered if he knew what that meant for him. Looking at his watch, Casey decided we had some time to kill. "Let's think of our cover story. Where did we meet?" The question hung in the air between us. I could tell it was making Casey uncomfortable so I began suggesting romantic backstories for our fake relationship.

Casey became increasingly more closed off as I spoke, obviously not wanting our story to be quite as romantic as I had proposed. "We met at an Independence Day barbeque, where we both had mutual friends." The thought of this man, who couldn't even have an amicable conversation, ever trying to get close to someone sans mission seemed impossible at the moment. I smiled inwardly when I realized that this didn't bother me.


End file.
